


Meeting Miss Carey

by jemscarstair



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Femslash, Sexual Tension, Tumblr Prompt, first femslash fic tbh, idk if the sexual tension is actually there i think it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3634203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemscarstair/pseuds/jemscarstair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke overhears one of her students telling a little story and decides to meet with her mother to talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Miss Carey

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this tumblr prompt: “I’m your kids teacher and they told an extremely inappropriate story about you in class”

Clarke was trying to decide just which book to read her kindergarten class when she heard a loud, confident voice already telling the kid’s a story. At first, she smiled—because this was good, little children socializing with each other was a good thing—but then she actually  _heard_  what the little girl was saying.

“I think my mommy’s bedroom is haunted,” she was saying, yet there was no waver in her voice, no doubt at all. It was clear that despite the fact that she said “I think” there was really no doubt in her mind that what she was saying was true.

“Why?”

“Because there was this...noise coming from there. Sounds.” She giggled. Clarke looked over at her from her spot at the small bookcase in the corner. The little girl was only five, with long curly dark brown hair currently in pigtails and wide, doe-like brown eyes. As she continued telling her story, Clarke settled back on her heels and listened. “There were these bumping sounds and there was that sound ghosts make when they’re trying to scare someone.”

 _Moaning. Oh god. Oh my **god**_. Clarke thought, a blush rising to her face when she realized what exactly the little girl was talking about.

“Anya,” she called, making the little girl look at her curiously. “Come here please.” Anya got to her feet and ran to her, a bright smile on her face.

“Did you here my story?” When Clarke nodded, Anya beamed even brighter. “I was right, wasn’t I? Mommy’s bedroom is haunted!”

“Er, yeah, Anya,” Clarke said, motioning for her to choose a book she’d like for Clarke to read to the class. She chose Dr. Seuss. “Your mommy’s room is haunted.”

* * * *

She called Anya’s mother while her class was in recess. 

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded way too serious. Clarke swallowed.

“Hello.” She tried to make her voice sound pleasant. “This is Miss Griffin, Anya’s kindergarten teacher—”

“I know who you are.” Her voice sharpened, making Clarke’s words die in her throat. “Did something happen? Is Anya alright?” For a second, Clarke was at a loss for words, but then she smiled.

“Yes, Anya is fine.” She paused. When the other woman remained silent, she continued. “It’s just, today during story time Anya took it upon herself to tell the class her own story. And it was a bit...inappropriate.” More silence. Considering this was her first year teaching, and therefore the first call to a parent, she was understandably nervous. “Would you mind meeting with me after school today so that we can discuss it? It’s a very sensitive topic that shouldn’t be discussed over the phone, in my opinion.”

“Of course,” the other woman said after a long moment; it occurred to Clarke that she didn’t even know her name yet. “I’ll see you then.”

* * * *

Clarke didn’t know what she expected. A middle-aged woman, maybe. Older than Clarke’s twenty-five, at least. What she didn’t expect to see was a young woman no older than twenty-two. She had long curly brown hair, the same color as Anya’s, with wide green eyes and full lips. Anya had hugged her around the legs when she entered the classroom, but when she saw Clarke, she told Anya to go play. It wasn’t until Anya was settled down with a book in her lap that she approached Clarke’s desk and took a seat, leaning back casually and crossing her long legs (which was showing because she was wearing short jean shorts, which Clarke definitely  _didn’t_  notice, absolutely not).

“Mrs. Carey—” The woman immediately interrupted her, causing a flash of irritation to slither through her. She gritted her teeth together.

“Miss,” she corrected, “and I prefer Lexa.” Clarke blinked. She had thought, considering how young she was, and with a five-year-old kid, she would have been married. Apparently not.

“Lexa,” she corrected herself. “I’m just going to get straight to the point. Today, Anya told a story about how your bedroom was apparently haunted.” Lexa arched an eyebrow.

“That’s inappropriate because...?” On impulse, Clarke didn’t even try to be subtle.

“She described hearing banging and moaning.” Lexa blinked, then turned around in her seat to look at her daughter.

“If she genuinely thinks my bedroom is haunted, then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem,” Clarke said, exasperated, “is that if my other students go home and tell their parents the same story, I could get in a lot of trouble. Parents might think I’m telling their children sex stories or something. Look, what you and your boyfriend do is your business, but I would appreciate it if you’d explain to your daughter that she shouldn’t be spreading those stories around.” Lexa’s eyebrows when Clarke had mentioned her boyfriend, and a small smile even flashed across her face, like she knew something Clarke didn’t.

“So you’re worried about the perverted parents,” Lexa drawled. Clarke sputtered, opening her mouth to argue, but Lexa raised her hand to silence her. Despite her being young, Clarke felt her words dying in her throat. “Okay. I get that. I’ll talk to Anya tonight. Can I take my daughter to my parent’s now? I have to get to work.” Clarke nodded, standing up as Lexa did. When they shook hands, Clarke tried to ignore the sharp tingle that shot up her arm.

“Oh, and by the way?” Lexa turned at the door. Anya was attached to her side, her tiny hand in Lexa’s. “The only time I tried boys out ended up with Anya. The only good side about it was her.” Lexa’s eyes roamed over Clarke’s form, which was leaning against her desk. Clarke’s face heated up. “So I’ll see you tomorrow when I pick up Anya.”

Clarke was so flustered she knocked over a small cylinder holding pencils and pens on her desk.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did this justice. Wrote it while writing Pitch Perfect, so I wasn't completely focused, but I like how it turned out. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
